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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721447">Close-Up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/lily%20rose'>lily rose (annabeth)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>piss!verse 2.0 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Coming Untouched, Desperation, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Incest, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Masturbation, Sam is sixteen, Sibling Incest, Underage - Freeform, Video Cameras, Watersports, Weecest, Wetting, Wincest - Freeform, purposeful wetting, starts in media res</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:28:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721447</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/lily%20rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>In the time-honored tradition of unsupervised teenagers everywhere, Sam is planning to take the opportunity to get into mischief—namely pissing himself on purpose.</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>piss!verse 2.0 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787341</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Close-Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam's hand is covering Dean's hard-on, their mouths moving against each other greedily, when they hear Dean's cell phone ring. Panting, Sam separates his mouth from Dean's, even though it's difficult; the last thing he wants to do is stop making out. Even if they would have had to stop making out to move things to the shower, Sam still wasn't quite ready.</p><p>	"Phone, Dean," Sam gasps, and Dean, pupils blown, is staring at him uncomprehendingly. "Your phone! It's Dad!" Because of course it is; the ringtone is the specific one assigned to John.</p><p>	Dean shakes himself out of it, climbing off of Sam and fumbling in his pockets. The phone stops ringing and beeps, and Dean holds it up for Sam to see.</p><p>	"He sent a text," Dean says, eyes back on the phone screen. "Crap. He's outside! Quick, Sammy, get dressed—"</p><p>	"I'll—" Sam hops off the bed and darts into the bathroom, shutting the door, cock swinging back and forth where it's still flying free from his boxers. "Tell him I'm taking a crap or something, Dean." Inside the bathroom, Sam gives himself a quick once-over in the mirror—his hair is mussed, tangled from Dean's fingers, all riotous curls from the humidity, and his chest is still sheened in sweat, his lips swollen and red as flames. He looks thoroughly debauched, and if John saw him right now…</p><p>	Sam has no idea whether John would even notice, to be honest, since he's not the most observant parent, but he can't take any chances. He turns the shower on, grateful that he's not sporting a woody anymore, and strips quickly out of his boxers. He takes his time in the shower, cleansing his body and washing his hair, and scrubbing even his lips. That won't make them less swollen, but it might be more easy to explain if he just took a shower.</p><p>	He can hear, as he shuts the water off and climbs out, wrapping himself in a towel, Dean's and John's voices through the wood of the door. It's muffled—the door is surprisingly sturdy and soundproof for a cheap motel—but he can still tell they're talking to each other.</p><p>	Sam remembers his salad just as his stomach growls loudly, and wonders if Dean is eating the food yet—if John will even remember that his sons need to eat. Half the time he's so caught up on the trail of some monster or demon, he doesn't. Sam learned that pretty young.</p><p>	He's also hoping John doesn't notice Dean's erection, because unlike Sam, Dean couldn't run and hide. To be fair, he probably should have sent <i>Dean</i> into the bathroom for cover, but John had called Dean—and he would have been angry if Dean wasn't right there waiting for him.</p><p>	Sam hears the outer door slam, and cautiously emerges from the bathroom. The motel room is empty. His hand flies to his mouth; did John pick up on something? Why wouldn't Dean knock on the bathroom door?</p><p>	From his jeans' pocket, lying over the back of the room's only chair, Sam's phone buzzes. He practically runs over to it, yanking it out and unlocking it using his passcode. It's a text from Dean:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <i>Hey, Sammy. Sorry to abandon u. Dad needed help on his hunt and INSISTED I come along! I didn't want to :( I wanted to stay and 'talk' some more. Should be back in a few hours - I hope. Dad says he just needs me to flush the creature from its hiding place while he wastes the bastard. But don't worry! Next time we're alone ;)</i>
  </p>
</blockquote>Disappointed, Sam deletes the text—Dean was pretty vague, but he still doesn't want to keep anything vaguely incriminating—and wanders aimlessly around the motel room for a few minutes, until his bladder reminds him that he had to piss twenty minutes ago and never got the chance. He was going to christen Dean—if his brother would have let him, and he's pretty sure Dean was ready to.<p>	Absently, he makes for the bathroom, then pauses on the threshold, an idea taking root. John can't ever find out what's <i>really</i> between his sons, or he'd probably take a shotgun full of rock salt and aim it at Dean. He might—<i>might</i>—spare Sam, because Sam is younger, but the way they're always at loggerheads with each other, he probably won't bother. He might not even blame Dean, who is his good little soldier, obedient and willing to jump no matter how high John says. That's why Dean went on this hunt; he listened to John order him to help, and Dean hasn't learned yet that he doesn't have to just—and only—do what their father wants.</p><p>	With all of that in mind, Sam goes and uses the chain lock on the door, his idea germinating. He's still hot—it's later in the afternoon, but the sun is blazing, keeping everything as warm as the inside of an oven, or at least so it feels—and vacillates between pulling his jeans back on and simply doing what he's planning in his underwear.</p><p>	Ultimately he decides rinsing his underwear poses less trouble than taking his jeans to wash, and sucks on his lower lip. In the time-honored tradition of unsupervised teenagers everywhere, he's planning to take the opportunity to get into mischief—namely pissing himself on purpose. He's never tried that before—he's usually underfoot with Dean around if not John too, and it's only recently that Dean found out about this—but he's alone, more than a little sexually frustrated, and wants to tease Dean a little.</p><p>	Honestly, it isn't even exactly about teasing him. It's partly that—but mostly the desire to involve Dean in this, even if his brother had to abruptly depart. Sam wishes Dean had at least knocked on the bathroom door and explained things, but he's not upset with Dean, not really; John is, after all, Dean's "commander-in-chief," and as his superior—at least in their minds—Dean wouldn't even consider the possibility that he didn't have to obey.</p><p>	Sam pulls out the ugly, 1970s avocado green plastic chair in front of the desk and sits on it, sliding down a little so his knees are wide apart; and grabs his laptop, which he points downward, till he can see himself reflected in the screen. Then he fires up the webcam, sets it to record versus broadcast, and adjusts the computer till it's properly focused on him.</p><p>	Taking a deep breath, clad in only his boxers and needing to piss—almost an eight—he chews the corner of his lip and tries to relax. He's got a bit of a boner, which isn't making things easy, besides which, this goes against everything he's ever been taught: namely that sixteen-year-old high schoolers—especially intelligent ones like Sam—don't <i>do</i> this, this thing he's about to do. But he forces his way through that reticence, relaxing his muscles, and allows himself to just… <i>let go.</i></p><p>	This motel room has tiled floors, or Sam wouldn't have done this—John's not a completely oblivious idiot—and the camera, trained on his crotch, records the moment he lets go, even a little: a spurt of darkness on the fabric of his boxers.</p><p>	Then more of a stream, which wets through the material and makes it glisten, like the sun on pavement on a hot day—like today, even—and yet still, it's not enough, it's too much, and it's <i>only the beginning.</i></p><p>	Sam presses on, until it stops coming in fits and starts and becomes steady, and that's it, just like that Sam is pissing himself—and dramatically, too. He's amazed by how good it feels—endorphins bursting in his brain, blood rushing south, every possible sexual reaction; his lips are puffy again, the green of his irises swallowed by his pupils, and his cock is getting too hard to continue pissing without effort.</p><p>	Sam had wondered in the past why people on those websites did this, but he's not wondering anymore. Much like the rushing of his blood, piss is rushing out of him like a dam that's sprung a leak, and Sam loses control of the laptop—it pitches forward onto his stomach and his head falls back.</p><p>	Distantly, he remembers it would be bad for his laptop to get pissed on, and he manages to fumble it back up, to come back to himself enough to refocus the camera, but then he's finished pissing—finally, and yet, it's <i>too fucking soon</i>—and, yanking his dick out, he's <i>coming</i>, creaming his belly, his fingers, all the way up to his collarbones.</p><p>	Gasping for breath, Sam pushes the computer back onto the desk, just sitting there with his heart kicking hard against his ribs, soaked in piss and come and he knows—<i>knows</i>—the type of picture he presents right now, and if he knows Dean, Dean will not be able to resist.</p><p>	The next time they're alone, Sam thinks, ten minutes later as he mops up the floor and rinses out his underwear—and takes another shower—Dean is definitely going to want to fuck him. Or to fall into bed with him. Sam's not sure exactly what will happen then, but he can't wait to find out.</p><p>	Yes, when Dean sees his little video—his present to Dean—his brother is going to flip. He might pretend to scold Sam—but Sam doesn't think so.</p><p>	More than likely, Dean will be just as into this as anything else, as far as Sam is concerned—and if the  last few weeks have taught him anything, it's that Dean has a lust for life—and <i>Sam</i>—that is unparalleled.</p><p>	Dean has very little self-control where Sam is concerned, and Sam likes it that way. He makes sure the camera recorded everything, then crawls back onto the bed he shares with Dean, already breaking out into a fresh sweat, and turns the TV on. Hopefully Dean will get back soon, and John will find something to do and absent himself somewhere.</p><p>	Suddenly reminded of his lunch, Sam gets up and unwraps his salad, taking a bottle of water out with it. He opens the water and takes a long, loooong pull. He's going to be damn well prepared for later, if they get any time alone.</p><p>	If they <i>do</i>—then Sam is going to be ready, steady, <i>go</i>.</p><p>END</p>
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